It Rains In Heaven
by jeremieyz
Summary: Steve is summoned to Asgard in their mutual search for Loki, where he learns certain truths to Loki's past, and the inner workings of Asgardian affairs. Sequel to Easy Come, Easy Go. Post-Avengers. Eventual Steve/Loki.
1. Prologue: Interim Among The Stars

**It Rains In Heaven**

Sequel to _Easy Come, Easy Go_.

I _highly_ recommend reading that first. It's ~60K, and the product of six months of turmoil, so please take your time with it, haha.

This is a brief prologue to the second part of the series, which I will estimate again to be novel-length. Please enjoy, and reviews are always welcomed :)

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**Prologue: Interim Among The Stars**

He could have left the Midgardians as they were—the sparse fleet of Chitauri soldiers was nothing the green monster and the man of iron cannot handle, and Jane Foster and her mentor certainly could have closed the portal on their own, given the proper time and equipment. But that would risk the death of civilians, and further disappointment to the good Captain, and Loki supposes he felt charitable in that moment.

He closes his eyes and sighs, feeling his magic coursing through his veins, pooling at his fingertips. The metal and leather of his armor hangs heavily on his shoulder, a solid but welcoming presence, and Loki missed it, missed feeling in control.

The god has taken temporary refuge among a body of floating rocks within Midgard's solar system, distant enough so that the planet is nothing but a bright speck among the sea of stars. Loki has enough energy for the time being, to shield himself from Thanos and Heimdal (whether the guardian is alive or not), but it leaves the god with very little more.

But he supposes it's for the better, closing the portal to Midgard despite the costs, so that neither the Chitauri nor Midgard's heroes could follow him in suite. He simply needs a bit of time now, to rest and regain his strength, before proceeding in his plans. And perhaps, some time to think wouldn't hurt.

Loki still hasn't fully grasped what had happened—what had _changed_—that would lead to his release from Odin's curse.

_Whoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor._

That had been the spell which sealed Thor's power, binding him to Midgard as a mortal, until he had proved himself worthy in his sacrifice to protect Jane Foster, his friends, lowly Midgard, and the like. And Loki hardly considers himself to have stumbled so low, to such debilitation sentiment, in that moment of near death. Perhaps he had wished the Captain safe, but that is only one man. The god feels nothing more for the rest of Midgard—they could burn to cinder for all he cares—so in that sense, Loki has changed very little to Odin's liking. But the curse is nevertheless broken, just in time to end the travesty, and maybe Loki shouldn't put a good thing to question.

The Captain. _Captain Rogers_. Loki regrets his impromptu words of farewell, the information he had carelessly revealed in that moment of faltering. The Captain had no right to know of his plans—that his mother is dead as a result of the war in their realm—Asgardian business. But Loki didn't want to leave Midgard in the situation they were in—as he restrains the Captain with his magic and lures him to sleep—because he had seen a glimpse of terror in those lucid blue eyes, as if the Captain had thought that Loki chose to betray them after all. And he didn't want the Captain to believe such a thing, but in retrospect, he decides his decision had been poor. What more could he have hoped for, in revealing his nauseatingly valiant effort to revenge his dead mother? It would certainly drive the good Captain mad, and Loki doesn't know which is worse, to have the human hate him for a false betrayal, or instilling in him some wretched notion that he could _help_ the god, above all else.

And Loki is hardly in need of help now that Odin's chains are broken. And in that moment of liberation, he had felt as if a dam had erupted—the magic sealed within him for what felt like centuries suddenly surging through his veins, overwhelming and uncontainable. And taking out the Chitauri soldiers had been easy—_child's play_—and the god had managed to take down the main wave before Stark even got his suit ready. Closing the portal had been much more strenuous on his body, but nothing Loki couldn't handle, which only left the monotonous duty of clean up to the Midgardian heroes, and they should be thankful. It was practically a gift.

So possibly, his act could be deemed as compensation to Midgard, to the Captain. As useless as his time had been spent on lowly Midgard, the Captain did offer him kindness, books and conversation, and above all, distraction from his fears and sorrows. And Loki considers repayment in full—keeping damage to the precious city a minimum—which should mean that he owes Midgard nothing, and there is no reason to ever return.

He leans against the stone walls of his momentary shelter—on a barren rock of the asteroid belt—willing himself to rest. He can sleep now, with his magic unbound and uninhibited, but the tirelessness in his bones does nothing for his overactive mind.

His thoughts drift constantly to the good Captain. Their kiss, he can't decide if it's better to be forgotten. It certainly wasn't his first kiss, but perhaps, first rejection—blatant, but not unkind—and the Captain's choice of words were certainly laughable in its irony.

He knew that the Captain would never accept him for what he had done—for the destruction he had caused, and their clashing ideologies in what's true of this world—but Loki surprisingly does not regret his decision. It wasn't a bad decision, for a dying god to flirt with the unobtainable, and he did manage to find satisfaction in the Captain's initial compliance, however brief it might have been. While the Captain's logical mind casted its equitable doubts, his heart, his _body_—at least—desired the god, and there is some value to that.

But the Captain is of the past, the time spent on Midgard a brief interlude in his true purpose, and Loki should dwell less on useless thoughts and remember the important, the incontrovertible—that mother is dead, and there is no reason, no _desire_, to ever return to Asgard, or anywhere else. Perhaps the weeks on Midgard weren't so useless after all, since breaking the curse on his own saved him the humiliation of appealing to Odin, to beg for a chance to fight alongside their army, to avenge mother. But now, with his magic intact, he needs no one. He will take on Thanos on his own, and the glory, the bitterness, and the sweetness of revenge, will be his to ravish, alone.


	2. The Truth About Heaven I

**Chapter 1: The Truth About Heaven I**

OKAY, so I just saw Thor 2, which totally inspired me to work on this fic a bit more before (despite my looming deadlines and exams).

AMAZING MOVIE btw! My favorite Marvel movie so far! And it even inspired me to integrate some new information into this fic (don't worry **NO SPOILERS**, this story is still very incompatible with Thor 2 since I started it way before the movie came out)

Anyway, I apologize for the slightly shorter chapter, because as I was writing it, it became much longer than initially anticipated, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. So Steve's adventures with Heimdall will be in two parts. Please enjoy the first :)

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"What's going on?" Steve takes a hesitant step back, as the gold and crystalline walls around him fade into nothingness. He finds himself outside once more, but rather than New York during its brisk, clear winters, Steve is now standing at the edge of a cliff, before a desolate wasteland of black stones and ice. "What is this place?"

"Heimdall?" The soldier calls for the guardian upon receiving no response, the syllables of his name feeling strange and foreign on his tongue. He turns to where Heimdall had stood, only to realize that he is alone.

Steve exhales through his mouth, but doesn't see the white wisp of his breath, and despite the falling snow and howling wind, the soldier feels none of the harsh conditions of his surroundings, as if he were still sheltered within golden walls. This—_whatever, this is_—isn't real.

He hears a chorus of shouts followed by the clashing of metal, and he whips around to find two armies seemingly appearing out of nowhere, tearing one another to shreds below the cliff where he is standing.

Golden armor, Steve realizes, and helmets with horns. They are Asgardian soldiers battling against creatures of blue skin, red eyes—could they be _Frost Giants_?

Steve blinks, and suddenly he is on the ground, the battle all but over. The planes are littered with dead from both sides, so vast in number that not a single patch of untainted snow remains. The soldier maneuvers himself passed the bodies, head low in a solemn salute for the newly fallen, until an arching stone temple rises before him, invisible forces pulling him inside.

And before the soldier stood a wounded old man—too regal in his posture to be a mere soldier. His right eye is bloody and hollow, and his snow-white beard tainted red. The man kneels before a bundle of loose blankets, as the cries of an infant echoes against stonewalls. The baby hushes from the sudden attention, and Steve looks on in awe as tender blue skin fades to pale, and red eyes transform to a shade of green that is all but too familiar

"Loki," Steve exhales a stuttering breath. And Heimdall, suddenly beside him, responds with a single nod.

"How long did you plan to keep him from me?"

The abandoned temple is now a furnished chamber, with velvet gold curtains and marble floors. Steve watches as a woman lean over a golden crib, her blonde hair pooling past the satin linings, just long enough for a pair of small hands to grasp longingly at the strands. She straightens herself at the sound of footsteps, much to the protest of the infant, seemingly to stare right through Steve.

"Your guards are ill-suited for this kind of responsibility. I could hear the poor child cry from the other end of the palace." The woman—_Frigga_, Steve is almost entirely sure—smiles, as she turns to the man from the battlefield—_Odin_. He now stands awkwardly by the arching entrance, and not even his regal armor could hide his unease before his beautiful wife. His injuries have healed with time, but a golden patch now replace where his wounded eye had been.

"He is not—" Odin begins, but his queen shushes him with an enigmatic smile. She is unbelievably stunning—unworldly almost—and Steve's portrait is nothing but a shadow in comparison.

"Of course, he is not."

"I found him, at the heart of Jötunheim. Abandoned."

"And you rescued this sweet child out of the goodness of your heart." There is a touch of humor in her voice, as Frigga lowers an elegant hand into the crib, eliciting a soft giggle from its inhabitant.

Odin's lips twist to a frown below his thick, white beard. "I am ashamed to admit the thoughtlessness of my actions, my Queen. And now, I am at loss to what I should do."

"What possibly could have been on your mind at the time?"

Odin approaches a nearby chair and sinks into its cushions, before bringing up a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "A whim, a wild hope—useless thinking, now in retrospect—that perhaps, the hatred between our realms would finally come to an end through this child—the future king of Jötunheim."

"A wild hope, indeed, to place on a mere child." Frigga parts from the crib to kneel before her king. She twines her fingers with his, before gazing into his weary eyes. Her expression is gentle, although the wrinkle between her brows suggests a touch of reproach.

Odin hesitates briefly before responding with a heavy sigh. "I cannot return him to that wasteland, to die."

"You must not, my King."

"But for him to remain here an unwanted child? Motherless? Forsaken?"

"He will not be without a mother. I wish to be his mother."

Odin looks to his wife, disbelief evident in his battle-worn features. "You cannot possibly."

"Why not, my King?"

"He is the son of Laufey."

"Laufey abandoned him."

"He is the son of our enemies. The blood of our people stains the hands of his ancestors."

"And why should an innocent child pay for the crimes of his ancestors?"

"A _Frost Giant_ in the house of Odin?"

"No one has to know. He is a sweet child—small, for a Frost Giant. Your glamor will conceal him."

"I could not conceal him from you." Odin looks pointedly to his wife.

"I can guarantee, my King, you need not worry for anyone else." She runs soothing circles on the back of his calloused hands. Her smile remains but her eyes are sad. "I feel as if its fate, almost, that has brought him to us."

"Frigga, he is not—" Odin stumbles over his words, falthering, his brows furrowed in worry. "He cannot replace—"

"I know, I know," Frigga hushes, "He is no one's replacement. He is Loki only. My Loki."

The scene before him fades once more in a transition of colors, and Steve is left motionless and speechless—overwhelmed with an odd mixture of guilt and intrusion.

"Why are you showing me this?" He demands even though he is alone. Heimdall appears to have the ability to come and go as he wishes, much to the soldier's frustration. "I—I don't understand! What is the meaning of this?"

###

Steve watches Loki grow to a shy little boy—clever, studious, sensitive (but perhaps, a bit too sensitive). Young Thor was absurdly fond of his brother, but his exuberance and overprotectiveness embarrassed the young god almost as much as the jokes of cruel children, who often mocked the young prince for his pale appearance, his preference to magic—as if they made him any less of a warrior.

Some of the children had been unkind, but Loki was not entirely blameless either. He was far too sharp-tongued and quick-witted for his own good, devious in his pranks and relentless in his petty acts of vengeance. Furthermore, the young god possessed a certain degree of haughtiness—fitting only for a spoiled prince—whixh rendered him quite the unpleasant child when provoked. But despite his faults—Steve could tell—that Loki was not cruel. He just never seemed to belong no matter how hard he tried.

Odin was kind to his second son, but his favoritism towards Thor was obvious. Steve finds it almost heart-breaking how Loki could never impress his father—with his magic, his studies, his gifts—at least, not in the same effortless way Thor could, through his spars and the fruits of his hunt.

Frigga's love offered some compensation, but it was never enough, not for Loki. And as Thor grew more arrogant and reckless, Loki became reserved and cunning, until his resentment towards his golden brother reached a peak. In retrospect, the debacle around Thor's coronation seemed almost inevitable, and Steve watches on in dread at the unfolding of events—from Loki's wiles to Thor's idiotic raid into the heart of Jötunheim, and finally, the touch of a Jotun soldier that changed Loki's life in every way imaginable.

"I thought we could unite your kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance. Bring about permanent peace, through you. But those plans no longer matter."

"So, I am no more than another stolen relic? Locked up, here, until you might have use of me?"

"Why do you twist my words?"

"You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn't you?"

"You're my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth."

"What? Because I-I'm the monster that parents tell their children about at night? It all makes sense now. Why you favored Thor all these years! Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on your throne of Asgard!"

And what follows is a disaster, a tragedy of a boy who made all the wrong choices—blinded by the need to please his father, consumed by jealousy for his brother, and plagued with the irrepressible anguish that his life had been a lie, and all his efforts had been in vain.

Steve watches as Thor summon his hammer, before directing all this strength to the crystalline bridge below. He strikes it once, twice, until the foundation shakes, and he continues until the entire bridge collapses in a flash of brilliant lights.

"I could have done it, father! I could have done it, for you! For all of us!" Loki cries out frantically—tears streaking his beautiful face—as he dangles over the edge of the bridge.

"No, Loki," says his father, and the young god looks to him unblinkingly, expression muted in comparison to the anguish he must feel. He allows himself to fall—despite the protest of his brother, his father—and disappears into nothingness, along with the rest of the scene.

Steve could hardly repress his frustration—with this damaged family, with himself—now that Loki's face before his fall—hopelessness and distraught—is permanently etched into his brain.

_No, Loki._

How could Steve have known that these were the exact words that drove Loki to madness, to his fall? And he had said it—in his idiocy, in his obliviousness—the night when Loki kissed him, the night before he disappeared from Earth. And how could he have known that Frigga had died, that Loki had been mourning, for the only person he still cared for in his once home. If Steve truly wished to reminisce and determine all the wrong things he said to the god, certainly he would drive himself mad.

"Are we done here?" He shouts into the void, into the nothingness surrounding him. Heimdall has not conjured another scene in awhile, and the soldier feels as if he's simply floating in a vast void.

"Or are you going to show him attacking Earth too! Leading the Chitauri army, maybe? Because I still remember that quite clearly!" Steve continues after receiving no response. His hands are nearly shaking, and he supposes it's unfair and childish to direct his frustration at the guardian, for something that is clearly not his fault. "Is this supposed to explain what he has done to us? Justify it?"

"Are you even listening?" Steve seethes, and he supposes this is typical—_Asgardian_—how nothing is ever straightforward, and that he is simply forced to sit through this experience, without any say in it at all. "Because I can think of a much better way to—"

Steve is cut off mid-sentence by a blood-curling scream, and he feels as if his heart had dropped to his stomach.

"Loki?" The soldier's voice is barely a whisper. He looks frantically around him, but is only greeted by pitch-blackness in all directions. And no matter how long he waited his eyes would not adjust.

Another scream rips through the silence, and that sets Steve running blindly in the general direction towards the source. He could hardly recognize the outline of his hand before him, and he tries his best not to stumble, and to ignore the sudden deficiency of his most dependable sense. Steve waits for another signal of some sort, but receives none, and he feels as if the blood in his veins has turned to ice, knowing that Loki is here somewhere. After all, everything has been revolving around the god so far.

"Loki? Is that you? I can't see a thing! Where are you? Wher—Oh, no—No, please, no!"

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Sorry, for the cliffy again, omg.

Reviews are motivation and love. Thank you so much for reading!


	3. The Truth About Heaven II

**Chapter 2: The Truth About Heaven II**

(Relatively) rapid/longer update because that last cliffhanger was cruel. Enjoy!

Warning: semi-graphic depictions of violence and torture

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There's blood—a pool so vast, and Steve could hardly comprehend that a human body could contain so much blood. But then again, Loki isn't exactly human.

"I am rather pleased to inform that your death will not come this soon." A hooded figure rasps, his teeth sharp and grotesque behind silver frames—_The Other_—Steve recalls, based on these characteristics. Loki's capturer runs a metallic claw along the flat plane of the god's stomach, reopening old wounds, and the god cries again, hoarse and broken as more red pools at his navel.

"No—NO!" Steve shouts and lunges at the figures before him, but no matter how many steps he took, or how fast he ran, Loki—bound in chains, in darkness, thin frame bleeding and broken—is always just a fingertip out of reach.

"You are still of use to Master, but in the mean time, I bear no hesitation in reminding you of your place, Godling." The Other takes a fistful of ruffled black hair and yanks, earning a sharp inhalation from the god. Rings of bruises adorn the captive's neck. "And I will find immense pleasure in abolishing any treacherous thought, in this guileful mind of yours."

He brings his pointed fingers to the corners of bleary green eyes, and the next cry comes from Steve's own lips.

"Stop it! Stop this, _please_!"

And to his surprise, everything does stop, although in a more literal sense than the soldier had intended—the horror freezing before him as if someone hit the pause switch on a movie. Heimdall is once again by his side, vacant eyes sullen.

"This is what happened to him after—after his fall." The soldier does his best not to choke.

"Yes."

"And you're showing me this, everything that happened because—you can see everything."

"Yes."

"But if you knew—how come no one even tried to..."

The silence was enough to verify. Steve shakes his head in disbelief.

"How long was he here, before he started working with Thanos."

"Roughly one year, in your Midgardian time."

"A whole year!" The soldier could hardly contain his rage. "One whole year in this hell, and you knew! You knew, and you left him here! How could—"

"How could you!"

Steve falls silent upon the wailing of a woman. Frigga appears before Heimdall, delicate features contorted in grief, angry tears smeared across her cheeks.

"The Bifrost was destroyed, and the path of dark energy could only ensure one way, with no means of returning" Heimdall speaks, gentle but devoid of anything else, "There was nothing we could have done."

"Why did you not tell me that my boy is alive?"

"You would have only suffered more, knowing he is suffering."

"Is that what Odin told you?" the queen frowns vehemently, almost reminding Steve of the Mischief God himself, "When he ordered you to conceal the truth from all but him?"

"I cannot betray our King."

Frigga breaths shakily through her teeth, her wrath broiling beneath the sorrow. "You might have kept your loyalty to our King, but you have betrayed _me_."

"My Queen, _please_—"

"You have wronged me, Heimdall. You have betrayed my friendship, my trust. I will never forgive you, for what you have done."

The guardian finally falters, a hint of unease in his tone. "You have placed me in an impossible situation."

"You will watch over our kingdom." Frigga is shivering with rage. "You will watch over my two sons, your two Princes—regardless of their treacheries, past or present, or any personal woes you may share. That is your duty, if not for Odin, but for me. You owe me this much."

Heimdall looks to his queen sullenly, before complying under her relentless glare. "Yes, Lady Frigga. You have my word."

Frigga vanishes, leaving Steve alone with the guardian. The soldier swallows thickly before finding his words. "So does this mean they considered the circumstances surrounding Loki's crimes, when they determined his punishment?"

Heimdall responds without much of a personal statement.

"Do you forget that you are Queen?" Odin, on his throne, looks grimly to his wife.

"And do you forget that you are a father? _His_ father?" Frigga, before her king, levels her shoulders.

"Had he been the son of any other, he would have been executed. His life has been spared, in honor of your good word."

"You act as if he alone is responsible for his fall. You abandoned him first, in that wretched place, to be tortured, to wish for death, and—"

"And what would you have wished me to do?" the king bellows, the blunt end of his staff striking the marble floor. "Send Thor? Send the one good son we have left, to die? For the other?"

"They are both good sons!" Frigga raises her voice in equal, and Odin frowns thunderously.

"Loki brought war to the Nine Realms, death to the innocent, suffering to all who crossed his path."

"And so did Thor, or do you forget?"

"The damage Thor had caused was merely a shade in comparison. He has already served his punishment, on Midgard."

"And what does that say about us, my King?" Frigga laughs bitterly. "That both our boys would commit such treachery, in the name of Odin."

The king heaves a heavy sigh and brings a hand to rub wearily against his temple. A long stretch of silence hangs heavily between them, before the king finally speaks, quiet as a whisper. "What do you wish me to do?"

"Banish him, like what you had done for Thor." Frigga approaches her husband, covering his battle-worn hands with hers. "Do not let him sink deeper into his hatred and anguish, alone. Give him another chance at happiness."

"What world would accept him now?" Odin shakes his head, but his queen remains steadfast.

"Midgard."

"Not Midgard."

"Midgard, someday."

Steve is then brought to a dungeon, before a fluorescently lit prison. Inside, Loki sits on the ground, dressed in the same dark tunic and pants as he had when he fell to Earth. His wrists and ankles are bound by thin, silver chains, while a muzzle obscured the lower half of his face.

He kept his head bowed even as Frigga entered the cell, followed by armed guards. She kneels before her youngest son, and runs a gentle hand through his hair, down his face. She removes the muzzle as their eyes meet.

"Foolish woman," he says as she presses her forehead to the crook of his shoulder, her arms circling his neck.

"All mothers are."

"His sentence was therefore a century of imprisonment." Heimdall reappears besides the soldier. "Until new generations of Midgardians replace the old, and Asgard's crimes abandoned to the pages of history. Loki will then live as a mortal—regardless of how many lifetimes it may take—until he proves himself worthy, to return to the Realm Eternal."

Steve looks to the guardian in disbelief. "So your plan was to wait until everyone on Earth—everyone who had to suffer through the Chitauri invasion—_dies_, so Loki can be banished _here_?"

"Perhaps, a gift of mortality overlooked, is that you share not the grudge of gods," came the impassive reply.

Steve glowers at the guardian, feeling woefully insulted.

"But things rarely go accordingly to plan," Heimdall says before returning them to the golden observatory at the heart of the Bifrost, but only this time, the walls appear in repair—exposed to the outside where the rainbow bridge glimmers like lights in glass.

And suddenly, the ground beneath them quakes, and the swirl of gaping nothingness below the bridge seem to augment until something bursts within, and Steve watches in astonishment as a massive hand claws its way through the narrow opening.

"That's Thanos, isn't it?" Steve remarks mutedly as the ill-reputed monster comes into view. This is not his real form, Steve reminds himself of one of his first conversations with Loki, this is only a projection, a fraction of the real monster. But even so, the villain is on an entirely different level of fearsomeness, easily overpowering the guards rushing to the scene.

Heimdall gives a valiant effort in defending his post, but the guardian soon succumbs under the onslaught of Chitauri soldiers—exactly how Loki had described—collapsed in a pool of blood, his left arm and right leg severed. Steve clenches his fists helplessly as the invaders pass right through him, rushing onto the streets of an unsuspecting kingdom.

"What plagues your dreams, my son?"

Steve is now standing beside Frigga, before Loki, whose long limbs flail as he startles awake. Steve recalls Loki's inability to sleep without forgoing his mind, and judging by the complacency of the Queen, the Mischief god hasn't even told his own mother of these lasting consequences from his fall.

"The evening of your anniversary, and you choose to visit me." The god rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palm, his body visibly relaxing upon realizing his whereabouts.

"I fear I am an old woman now," Frigga smiles, "Find these endless feasts and celebrations exceedingly tiresome."

"Nonsense, mother—" Loki begins, but his breath is abruptly caught in his throat as he clutches at the side of his head. He scrambles out of his bed before his mother, eyes wild and frantic. "Leave. You have to leave _now_."

"Loki." The queen furrows her brows in worry.

"Asgard is under attack. Thanos, he is here."

And as if cue, the sound of alarms blares and echoes along the stone walls of the dungeon, troupes of armed guards gathering by the exit. "We have to get to the vault! They're trying to break in!"

"Listen, mother," Loki edges closer to where Frigga stands, nearly pressed against the barrier separating them. "It is a trick. The vault is simply a distraction. He is coming _here_."

"How could you possible know?" The queen looks to her son with questioning eyes, but the Mischief god shows little desire to elaborate.

"For vengeance, on me. I know, mother, I just know! There is no time for questions. You have to leave."

"Those brutes that hurt my poor boy," Frigga says under her breath, completely ignoring the prior instructions, and Loki—for lack of better word—_howls_ in frustration.

"Mother, listen to me! It is not safe here. You must go, you must—"

"The Godling, he speaks the truth." The immense figure of Thanos steps into view, face framed in bronze metal, his matching armor smeared with blood. "Lady Frigga, a pleasure, I must admit. My name is Thanos."

"I know well who you are," the queen calmly replies, the paradigm of regality. Loki, behind her appears much more distressed.

"I have no quarrel with you." Thanos' tone is deceivingly gentle. "I only wish to speak with your son."

"Your request is neither granted, nor your presence welcomed." Frigga stands firmly between the two men, much to Loki's voiceless complaint. "I advise you to leave."

Thanos grins, his thick jaw slack and protruding. "Pity. I would hate to harm a lady."

And upon command, two Chitauri soldiers emerge from the shadows and lunge into attack. And Frigga —with an elegant turn—reveals the hidden dagger beneath her veil, striking them down with easily. Thanos attempts to take her by surprise, his large hand extending and circling around her neck. And Frigga's guarded expression opens briefly, before the image of the queen vanishes in a flash of green light.

Thanos seethes upon realization, before turning his back, only to be greeted with the sharp edge of a dagger. Frigga slices him across the vast expanse of his face, dark blood spilling from his wound, but the villain wastes no time in recovery. He seizes the queen by her delicate wrist and twists until she drops the dagger.

"Now I see where the Godling had learned his tricks," Thanos grins, blood staining his teeth. With his free hand, he grips the queen by her chin, covering her lips with his large palm.

"Don't!" Loki protests just as Thanos threatens to break her neck. "Leave her be, and I will go with you. Willingly."

Thanos looks pointedly to the god, his grin never fading, and Loki licks his lips hesitantly, before adding a demure, "Please."

Thanos chuckles, striking the queen with the flat of his forearm and sending her flying across the deserted dungeon. Frigga collapses a few yards away, motionless.

"Mother!" Loki presses a hand to the barrier between them, only to be repelled.

"She will be fine." Thanos scoffs, as he connects his fist to the transparent wall, obliterating it in one strike.

The impact sends Loki crashing into the opposite side, and before he could regain his footing, Thanos grips him by the neck, effectively pinning him.

"Worry more for your own sake, Godling," the assaulter grins menacingly, taking Frigga's dagger and running it along the god's ribs. Loki's cry reverberates within the deserted dungeon.

The next thing Steve knows, he is back at the observatory—bodies of both Asgardian and Chitauri at his feet. The Bifrost has been overran, but more and more Asgardian soldiers are arriving, forcing the invaders to retreat.

Steve watches as Thanos manhandles Loki into what's left of the golden dome, the god stumbling as the chains around his ankles catch on a piece of debris. The portal through which the Chitauri had arrived is now a gaping vortex, pulling everything from rubble and fallen soldiers inside.

Thanos shows little patience as he grips Loki by the back of his neck, forcing him on hands and knees as they hover over the abyss. Loki grunts, before daring a glance into the other end of the portal, where millions upon millions of Chitauri soldiers await their arrival.

"They cannot kill you, at least not today," Thanos rasps against the shell of his ear, "But they will make you wish for death, wish you never existed to cross our paths."

Loki looks to Thanos, eyes shining with defiance and unadulterated hate, as if to say he already does. And Steve feels his blood broiling, with the frustration of knowing that this is the past—hopeless and unchangeable. But the tragedy does not end, as Thanos arches his back suddenly, a terrible sound ripping from the depth of his throat.

"Witch!" He seizes Frigga by her arm. "What have you done?"

The wound on his back begins to glow a simmering red, spreading like ink in water. Frigga's dagger has been enchanted—it seems—and the projection of Thanos begins to fade and crumble against the searing light. The monster scowls lividly, and Frigga is bold enough to return a sneer. Loki, once more, looks absolutely awed.

"Foolish woman," Thanos roars, "You will pay for these treacheries with your life."

He throws the queen among a troop of Chitauri soldiers, arriving from the entrance of the observatory.

"Finish her," he commands, despite Loki's fruitless protests, "And retreat. We have what we came for."

Thanos lifts the god by the neck, until his limp form is hanging over the abyss. Loki claws at the thick fingers obstructing his breath, straining to look beyond the vast shoulders of his assailant, to his unfortunate mother. Frigga's cry traverses the chaos around them, and Loki ceases to struggle, his arms dropping weakly to his side.

His expression is blank, unbelievably lost and young, and it's the first time Steve has seen him—_anyone_—cry like this. No sound, no anything. Just tears freely falling.

He thinks Frigga is dead, and Steve believed so too, until today. And now, the soldier doubts this reality—hoping against all lingering doubts, that somehow, the queen is alive, and pulling the strings behind everything that Steve is experiencing.

Thanos laughs cruelly before releasing the god, leaving gravity to pull him deeper into the abyss, with the Chitauri army restless on the other side. But before Loki could reach the intended destination, a brilliant streak of light spits the portal in two—destroying it—and suddenly, the Mischief god is nowhere to be found.

Thanos frowns viciously as he turns to Heimdall, who—with his remaining arm—has managed to operate what is left of the Bifrost.

"You could have lived another day," the villain taunts, his body dissipating but not nearly fast enough.

"My debt to the Queen," the guardian manages as his eyes grew dim, but before Thanos could lay a finger on the fallen warrior, a bolt of lightning pierces him through the chest.

The monster roars thunderously and crumbles into cinders, just as Thor plants himself firmly onto the platform of the observatory, releasing his hammer to strike down the remaining Chitauri soldiers.

"Bring the healers! Hurry!" Thor commands the incoming guards, rushing to where the queen lies. Her veil and golden garments are tainted in red, where her midriff is impaled by a long, curving dagger.

"You will be alright, mother." The Thunder god kneels beside the queen, urging her to remain still as to not exacerbate her injuries. "Please, hang on."

"They took your brother," Frigga shakes her head, pain etched in her contorting features.

"No." Thor brings a gentle hand to his mothers face, wiping away tears as quickly as they form, "Heimdall sent him away with the Bifrost, although only he knows where. But we will find him, mother, before Thanos can. I swear on my life that we will find him."

The scene fades with the end of Thor's sentence, leaving Steve standing in the center of the observatory—the one of the present, he assumes—with not only Heimdall before him, but Frigga as well, alive and well.

Steve regards both of them warily, before the queen finally approaches him in elegant, even strides.

"Captain Rogers," she raises her hand for him to shake, and he accepts without too much hesitation. He can never be rude to a lady, no matter how frustrating and _strange_ the circumstances might be. "I am Lady Frigga, Queen of Asgard, mother to Thor and Loki. And now that you know the truth—or as much to the truth as we know—will you save my youngest boy?"

Steve releases her hand, and looks to her with a strange mixture of uncertainty and surprise. It's not a question of whether he wants to, but whether he can. And he fails to comprehend how the queen could speak with such confidence, such hope, that Steve is the right person for this impossible task.

Frigga waits with motherly patience, and the soldier feels a rush of guilt with every passing moment, before finally deciding on the right words. "I would have said yes, even without knowing."

* * *

Happy Thanksgiving, and enjoy! :)

Please review. I'd love to hear feedback! Until next time!


	4. Frigga's Spell

**Chapter 3: Frigga's Spell**

Quick update before Christmas! I'm finally done with all my exams (don't want to talk about them) but at least I'm free! :D

So here's a new chapter before my holiday plans take over. Thank you so much for being patient. Enjoy!

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"Thank you, Heimdall," the queen turns to the guardian with an enigmatic smile—chin leveled, back straight, and hands folded neatly below her bosom. But something about it doesn't feel right to Steve—as if underneath the elegance, the regality, hides a nervous tick.

"But the Captain must have plenty more questions left unanswered," Frigga continues, "And perhaps, it would be best that we proceed in a more comfortable setting."

Heimdall responds with a single nod, and before Steve can fully comprehend what is happening, the queen places a delicate hand to his shoulder, her touch so gentle he could barely feel it there. And suddenly, the floor beneath him vanishes once more.

And after regaining some form of self-awareness, Steve dares to open his eyes and examine completely new environment around him—curving arches, woven rugs, floor to ceiling bookshelves interspersed by columns of marble and gold. A study room, it seems, although vastly more extravagant than any Steve had ever known. And he supposes Frigga wanted to attract as little attention as possible, bringing them here.

Two servant girls—with flowing blond hair and matching white robes—appear with silver trays of cakes and tea, placing them on the lone mahogany table in the middle of the room—expertly crafted with matching chairs.

Steve can only assume they are inside the palace. Had they walked, he could've at least memorized the path and turns to return to Heimdall's observatory, but then again, considering the Asgardians had pretty much plucked him off the face of the Earth, he probably won't be going anywhere without the approval of the hosts. The soldier is by no means comfortable with this situation, but at least, it's Frigga whom he has to confront—Loki's mother, _Thor's_ mother—and she doesn't seem unkind, at least.

"Please, Captain, make yourself comfortable." Frigga gestures as one of servant girl pulls out the chair for the queen to sit in. And Steve maneuvers to his chair before the other girl can do the same for him, and tells her that it's quite all right. Both girls bow before Frigga dismisses them with a wave of her regal hand.

Steve watches the hostess warily. A brief stretch of silence passes, as the queen takes a sip of tea, before speaking, "You do have questions, do you not?" She sets her cup down with a quiet clink against matching china.

"Yes, I—Yes." Steve feels clumsy, not really sure what to do with his hands. And he doubts he can actually stomach anything after being ripped through the distort of the Bifrost.

"Then, by all means, ask them." The queen smiles encouragingly. "I certainly have nothing to hide."

"Right." Steve nods, before taking a moment to assess his options. His mind is overflowing with questions—about Loki, about Thanos—but nonetheless, first and foremost, he decides to ask, "How are your injuries, Ma'am?"

"They are nothing to worry about, and I am well at this moment," Frigga smiles with all her teeth. "You are very kind to ask."

"I—" Steve ducks his head and blushes, never one to take compliments gracefully. "What about Asgard? How are your people since the attack?"

"Fortunately, there were few casualties to our public, considering the circumstances and our vulnerability. Asgard is still recovering from the damage, but we are progressing at a promising rate. The Bifrost is fully operable now, which is why we were able to summon you."

"Right," Steve nods, searching his hostess for any hint of doubt, but the queen remains resolute, "And what about Thor? How is he? _Where_ is he?"

"The crown belongs to Thor until the All-father wakens from Odinsleep—Are you aware of this condition, the state of Odinsleep?"

"I think so," Steve says, "From what Loki told me, at least."

Frigga's eyes shine of sadness at the mention of her son's name, but she opts to elaborate nonetheless, to make sure Steve fully comprehends the gravity of their situation. "Once every year, the All-father succumbs to his fatigue, leaving him vulnerable and his realm without a king. Because of the circumstances prior to his sleep—the unexpected invasion and strain on his body—we cannot predict how long he will remain asleep, this ime. But until Odin wakes, Thor is our king, who will lead our armies and protect our realm from the threat of Thanos. He has been occupied with Asgardian affairs, and he knows not of your presence here. Summoning you was my decision, and mine alone."

"Are you going to tell him that I'm here?"

"Eventually, yes," the queen easily responds, "Once we formulate a solid plan in retrieving his brother. I do not want him to needlessly worry, or jump at the opportunity to go himself."

"Do you know where he is?" Steve shifts in his seat, feeling the weight of the queen's gaze. "Loki, that is."

"In the outskirts of Muspelheim, land of the demons, and ruled by the fire lord Surtur."

"I thought Loki has the ability to shield himself from detection."

"He is not the only sorcerer with boundless potential," Frigga smiles with a hint of pride, "Heimdall has adapted to Loki's trickeries and wiles, and he can track Loki—where ever he might be—at least, within the boundaries of the Nine Realms. But as long as Loki shrouds himself in magic, we cannot retrieve him using the Bifrost. Our only option is to send someone to him, who can reason with him, but we must be wise with our choice. Once we reveal ourselves—and should we fail to convince him to come home—it will not take long before Loki adjust his defenses, so that he is hidden from us once more.

"So you want me to go?" Steve asks carefully, digesting the abundance of information.

"Yes."

"But why?"

"I trust that you can reason with him."

Steve remains unconvinced—at least in his own abilities to fulfill the expectations trusted upon him—but he is unsure of how to express such doubts without seeming rude.

"We could not have retrieved him earlier,"Frigga continues, perhaps sensing the soldier's hesitation, "When he had been on Midgard—his magic bound—because the Bifrost had been in repair. Heimdall was gravely wounded during the invasion, but it did not take long for him to regain his sight and hearing. We could see Loki, but we could not do anything to help him, much like now. We know—for the most part—everything that had occurred during his time on Midgard."

Steve flushes a deep red at the queen's gentle revelation. Surely, she must be aware of the kiss, and how Steve had rejected Loki's advances afterwards—whether regrettably or not, he is still not entirely sure.

"Did you ever wonder why the spell, which bound Loki's magic, was broken precisely in that moment?" Frigga thins her lips, her voice almost playful.

"I just assumed because—" Steve takes an educated guess, "—from Thor's experience, at least—that Loki proved himself worthy somehow, to break Odin's curse, for wanting to protect out planet and people."

Frigga looks to Steve, eyes glinting of guiles and mystery. "The magic in those chains are not Odin's curse, but mine." Her ruby lips curve to a satisfied smile. "And it was not Loki who broke the curse, but you, Captain."

"I—What?"

His consternation must've been evident on his face, prompting the queen to laugh. "You may recall, that we had asked the heroes of Midgard to purge Loki's name from the pages of history."

"Yes."

"Because we wished to banish him there in a hundred year's time."

Steve nods, and does a poor job of hiding his dismay, despite his efforts.

"We meant no insult in our secrecy," Frigga explains modestly, her expression probably as apologetic as any member of the royal family can produce, "It was an immensely controversial decision that went against several Asgardian codes and traditions. And Odin and I—we had much queries to settle within the gates of Asgard, that we simply hadn't the opportunity to negotiate with Midgard during this short lapse time. Please believe my word, Captain, that we never had the intention of carrying out Loki's banishment in secrecy, without the consent of your people."

Steve sighs, schooling his expression and willing to give the queen the benefit of the doubt. Frigga smiles in semi-relief, before continuing.

"Midgard has our respect and gratitude, not only in the physical prowess of your warriors, which brought the Chitauri to their knees, but also in the lessons in kindness and compassion, that you have offered to both my boys. Jane Foster, a college of yours, I presume—"

Steve affirms with a nod.

"—Jane Foster has done for Thor what life on Asgard—along with our various lessons in kingship and ruling—could not. And I am infinitely grateful towards her. All I wish for is the same for Loki during his time on Midgard, which is the reason behind our decision to banish him in a hundred's year time, his magic bound by—of course, much more figurative chains. And he was to live his life as a mortal, until he has found someone like whom Jane Foster had been to Thor."

"You can't mean _me_." Steve blurts out without meaning to, and quickly excuses himself. "I'm sorry—I still don't understand because I—We're not exactly—"

"Do you love my son?"

"No!" Steve cries out, mortified at the impossible question. "I mean—its not something I can honestly say yes to, or even answer after only—such a short period of time—I just—"

"But you were willing to risk your life for him. To die for him." The queen furrows her elegant brows, and Steve swallows thickly.

"Because I'm a soldier. And he's an ally—a friend."

"I see," Frigga accepts with a hint of disappointment, "But he was willing to die for you too, and he certainly is not a soldier."

"I suppose." Steve ducks his head and flushes. He doubts Loki would appreciate this conversation, if he were to find out, but surely, the soldier is feeling the full force of secondhand embarrassment.

"And these were the conditions of my spell," Frigga continues, "Broken in a mutual act of self-sacrifice, of love. Do you think it is possible that you may love my son, Captain?"

"I—uh—" Steve swears, in that moment, he had forgotten how to formulate actual words. He fights the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt, and Frigga, sensing his dismay, brings a hand to her lips to muffle a laugh.

"I probably should not ask such personal questions, my dear Captain. I sincerely apologize for my rudeness."

Steve nods, keeping his eyes resolutely fixed on his folded hands.

"Loki, he is not a poor son. And neither is Odin, a poor father." Frigga speaks once more, but this time her voice resonates with such sadness, that Steve risks a glance to the Aesir queen, despite the rush of blood still coloring his cheeks.

"They have a lot in common, as all father and sons do—pride, ambition, and an immaculate temper, which we all know too well. And they say things they don't mean—hurtful, harmful things—to each other. They both deem compromise as weakness."

Frigga sighs, gentle fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. Steve watches her with a mixture of sympathy and doubt.

"On my behalf, Odin has allowed Loki to live," the queen continues, "Or at least, that is what he will say when confronted. But I have never doubted his love for Loki—underneath the anger, the pride, and the betrayal. Odin is simply at loss to what he should do. He is very much in the same situation as Loki. So I took it upon my responsibility to do what is best for my family, my son. To decide not only on a suitable punishment for Loki's crimes, but also a chance for redemption, because he alone is not at fault for this tragedy you are well aware of now, my Captain. And I cannot stand by and watch Loki suffer, for the consequences of our combined failure."

Steve nods slowly, realizing that Frigga is probably the most _normal_ member of this powerful family, or at least, to his _Midgardian_ standards.

"We have tracked Loki to the outskirts of Muspelheim, although we cannot pinpoint his exact location due to the precautions he had taken. But we can send you in that general direction, and we will, of course, offer you as much protection as we can offer. You needn't stay at Muspelheim for long, only until you have managed in convincing Loki to take down his shields. And Heimdall will return you both to Asgard immediately. Although, I am well aware of the difficulties in appealing to Loki's senses."

"He still thinks you died during the invasion," Steve notes, suddenly recalling, "That's why he ran off in the first place."

"Yes," Frigga solemnly agrees.

"He won't believe me if I simply told him that you're still alive."

"This is a minor inconvenience, and you need not worry about it," the queen smiles in reassurance, "I will provide a solution when the time comes. But do you consent to our plans, Captain?"

"I'll need to get some stuff, though." Steve muses as he rubs at the back of his neck.

###

Steve wonders this awful feeling, the impulse to empty all the contents of his stomach, will eventually fade with time and repetition. He taps his foot twice on the concrete surface, just to make sure that he is indeed standing on the rooftop of Avengers Tower. He glances to his right to find Hawkeye, perched on the ledge a few yards away—eyes wide and jaw agape—his astounded expression almost humorous.

"Wh—_How_?" Clint blinks twice, looking around fervently and failing to find any other witnesses. "Holy shit, Cap! How the hell did you do that? Where the hell were you?"

"Um," Steve offers the archer a lip-sided smile, "Asgard. Would you believe that?"

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Thanks for reading! Reviews are motivation and love. Until next time! :D

Stefan's girl: I guess I did update before Christmas, but I cut it pretty close! Haha, I hope I touched upon some of your questions with this chapter!


	5. To Muspelheim

**Chapter 4: To Muspelheim**

Hopefully not too long of a wait! Here's the next chapter. Happy early New Year, and please enjoy :)

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"Oh my god," Clint gawked, "We found your bike just outside of the city, and we've been looking for you ever since this morning. And now, you're telling you hitched a ride to _Asgard_? How come we didn't pick anything up?"

"The Bifrost went through some major repairs since the last time Thor visited, so maybe it's different now." Steve offers noncommittally, wills his mind clear of Clint's distractions. He needs to focus and get what he came here for, with as little interference as possible.

"Shit man," Clint rubs at the short hairs at the back of his neck, "We have to tell the others, then."

"Actually, can you hold off on that?"

"Why?"

"Because I need to get back to Asgard as soon as I can, and I don't have time for—Tony and his antics." Steve winces and supposes he's fortunate that Clint is the first one to find him upon his return. Jane would boggle him down with questions while Tony would probably devise a way to hitchhike to Asgard alongside him, somehow. Natasha wouldn't even spare a moment's hesitation before reporting to the others, while Bruce and Pepper—well, Steve supposes they would've been all right too. But right now, he only has Clint to deal with, and Steve hardly considers it a challenging feat after everything he had gone and is about to go through.

"What for?" The archer furrows his brows, just as Steve makes his way inside at a swift pace. He motions for Clint to follow him as they speak.

"To find Loki."

"Is Loki coming back to Earth?"

"I don' t think so," Steve says as he pushes the elevator button.

"Then why do you want to find him?" Clint protests, throwing his hands up, just as the doors open.

Steve pauses briefly, deciding that perhaps, he'll need to brush Clint's questions aside for now. He honestly doesn't have time to go into the details of convincing the archer that their mortal enemy might not be as evil as they had previously believed. Heimdall and Frigga are waiting for him on the other side, and there will be plenty of time afterwards, to fill in the gaps, Steve hopes. "I need to help them bring Loki back to Asgard."

The reach his floor, and Steve leaves the elevator at his previous pace. Clint pulls on his shoulder to halt him in his stride. "I'm sorry, but how is that your job in any way?"

"Because I'm the only one who can talk some sense into him." Steve breaks free of the archer's grasp before continuing to the entrance to his quarters. He punches in his access code in swift, controlled motions. "Or at least, that's what everyone seems to think. Who else is in the tower?"

"Jane and Bruce are in the lab, everyone else is out looking for you?"

The soldier feels a twinge of guilt that his teammates are worrying for his sake, but the sooner he retrieves his belongings and return to Asgard, the sooner Clint can inform the rest of his whereabouts. Of course, it doesn't necessarily mean they would stop worrying.

"Okay, I just need to get my suit and shield." Steve grabs a duffle bag, shoving his belongings inside.

Clint, standing by his doorway, shakes his head. "You seriously had some bizarre heart-to-heart with Loki during his month here, didn't you?"

"I guess you can call it that," Steve sighs, slinging the bag over his shoulder before heading in the direction they had come. But truth be told, Loki had a strange heart-to-heart with everyone who had been here—Tony, Jane, Selvig, Bruce, Pepper—and they realized it too, in a way, that there is so much more to Loki than what he lets others believe.

"I don't think I should let you go," Clint declares as he follows the soldier back to the elevator. "This is seriously a first. I didn't know you were even capable of such bad ideas, Cap. Maybe Natasha can talk some sense into you."

"No, Clint." Steve says patiently just as the elevator doors open again. "I gave my word to the Queen of Asgard. Do you really want to challenge her?"

"Is she scarier than Natasha?"

"She could be. She gave birth to Thor."

"Shit man." Clint rubs at his forehead. "So what am I supposed to do, Cap?"

"Tell Tony and the others exactly everything I told you, after I leave." They reach the top floor and both step out. Clint still looks distressed but it doesn't seem like he'll go against Steve's words, which inspires the soldier to silently thank the universe.

"How long will you be gone?" The archer asks as they step onto the platform of the balcony.

"I don't know?"

"Is it going to be dangerous?"

"Most likely, yes."

"Will you be needing back up?"

"I think Asgard is going to back me up."

"And you really trust them?" Clint lofts a brow, and Steve sighs.

"Yeah, I guess so. It's a long story, and I don't have time to go into details, but I'm confident in my decision. You just have to trust me on this one. Tell the others not to worry for now. I'm working with allies."

"I still don't know, Cap," the archer frowns, and Steve honestly doesn't blame him. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Yeah, so do I," the soldier agrees, although they're speaking in completely different contexts. But before the soldier can formulate a proper farewell to the archer, the sky above them opens, crackling like bolts of lightning.

"Holy shit!" He hears the echoe of Clint's voice, as everything around him disappears in swirls of vibrancy and color.

###

One of the young mages giggle, and Steve feels every ounce of blood in his body rushing to his face.

Frigga was not there to greet him when he emerged from Heimdall's observatory. In her place were three young maidens, dressed in matching silver-white garments, all smiling radiantly. They shepherded Steve to some hidden chamber within the palace, where Steve was then asked to remove his clothes.

"I—Uh—" The soldier felt his mouth going dry. "Are you sure this isn't some sort of mistake?"

"No, Captain." Frigga entered through a separate entrance, with two more maidens following in suit, holding glass jars of dark, inky liquid and assorted brushes. "I promised to provide you with as much protection as Asgard can offer, before sending you into the unknowns of Muspelheim. My mages are here to aid me in this ceremony. You will need to remove some clothing, Captain. Just your top, if you don't mind."

Frigga brings the materials to the counter beside a carved slab of wood, clearly meant to function as an operating table of some sort. Her back is turned to the soldier—as if to make the situation less embarrassing—but none of the mages showed such courtesy. Steve swallows thickly before shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head.

And without further instructions, he was simply forced to stand there, feeling very much on display.

"Please step this way, Captain?" One of the maidens finally offered, laughter evident in her singsong voice and shining eyes. She gestured to the slab of delicately carved wood in the center of the room. "Lie on your back, if you will?"

Steve abided without any questions and heard a fleeting giggle as soon as his back was turned. The girls surrounded the table once he was comfortably settled, and Steve found this—_ceremony_—absurdly strange, as if he were being initiated into a cult.

"May I ask you a question, Captain?" One of the maidens spoke, although Steve couldn't really get her his line of vision.

"Sure, I guess."

"Are all Midgardians as handsome as you?"

The entire room broke to a chorus of giggles, but thankfully, the queen stepped in to save Steve from further embarrassment.

"Now, now girls, remember your training," Frigga softly chided, "No need in making the good Captain any more uncomfortable than he already is."

"Yes, my queen," the maidens responded in unison, and the teasing did stop after that.

So Steve lies there for God knows how long, willing himself to not move a muscle, as the mages paint foreign alphabets onto his skin—weaving and curling down the length of his arm, across his chest and back, and along the dips of his abdomen. He is grateful when then inscriptions seem to end once they reached the hem of his jeans.

"This spell will grant you the strength and resilience of any Asgardian warrior," Frigga explains as the preparations seem to near its end—or at least, Steve is running out of skin for them to write on. "And it will shield you from weaker spells, as well as the harsh conditions of Muspelheim, but make no mistake Captain, you are not immortal."

"What's Muspelheim like?"

"Land of demons, a race that is neither friends nor enemies to Asgard," Frigga speaks softly, like a mother with a story book, "It is the realm closest to our sun, and the core is molten and hot, seeping through the cracks of the earth."

"So the entire plant's like a volcano."

"Yes, one can say that."

"What's Loki doing there, then? He's a frost giant, isn't he?"

"I know not of his schemes." The queen places a hand against his sternum. "Or any of his curious thoughts. But you are correct, Captain, in that the conditions of Muspelheim is not ideal, especially for someone of Jotun blood."

Steve muffles a small gasp as the inscriptions glow under Frigga's touch, the curving letters pleasantly warm against his skin. The symbols then begins to travel across his body, and Steve can feel the energy rippling with each expansion and retraction, as the signs from intricate, flowering patters—completely distinct from the ones before. And when everything finally settles, the letters darken to a deep forest green. Steve absently touches the curving lines at his hip.

"These marks are not permanent, and I shall remove them upon your return," Frigga explains as she retracts her hand. "Each sorcerer and sorceress has a unique signature in magic, and the patterns on your skin attest to mine. Loki will know that this is entirely my doing, upon seeing the evidence on you."

"Wait," Steve furrows his brows, "So I'm just supposed to show him all of _this,_ and he'll believe me?" He gestures to his bare torso, before flushing a deep red.

"You are too modest, Captain." Frigga's laughter is accompanied by her mages' because surely, if the queen is laughing, then it must be okay for the maidens as well. "But perhaps Loki is trusting enough that simply an arm will do."

Frigga smiles in a way to suggest that she didn't believe it either, and Steve heaves a sigh before pulling his shirt over the marks on his body—which he supposes, is more fool-proof than jewelry, a written note, or any verbal insurance to convince Loki.

"Have you told Thor that I'm going to be doing this?" he asks, and the queen shakes her head.

"I will upon your departure. We need not his interference for now."

"Alright," Steve says as he plants his feet to the ground.

They return to Heimdall's observatory once Steve was given the opportunity to suit up—in privacy this time, thank god. Red, white, and blue. He is sure to stick out wherever he is, but he supposes it's all for the best. He has a greater shot for Loki to find him, than the other way around, especially since the god doesn't want to be found. And he leaves the cowl off because he has no intention of fighting, and communication is always easier without a cowl.

"I will deliver you—as accurately as my judgment will allow—to where Loki is taking refuge," Heimdall says as he positions his golden sword. "My eyes and ears are open to your every action. Simply call for me after Loki has taken down his shields, and I will open the Bifrost and return you both."

"Okay." Steve nods as he steps onto the platform, facing the swirl of blinding light that will soon engulf him whole.

"You have my eternal gratitude, Captain, and all my prayers and blessing." He hears Frigga bid, just as the vortex pulls him inside. "Thank you."

###

Steve finds himself before a desolate landscape, once he regains a moderate degree of awareness. Everything on the ground is scorched black—the packed dirt, the sharp stones, and few barren trees—while the sky bleeds hues of crimson and orange, as if the whole world had been set afire. It certainly felt like it, and Steve had never found his suit more unwelcoming—too suffocating, too tight and restrictive. He wonders how Loki is faring in this weather.

"Loki!" He yells into the emptiness before him. Heimdall says he would be within close proximity of the god, didn't he? Steve decides to stick to his plan of having Loki find him first.

He repeats himself twice or so before he feels a rumbling beneath his feet. Steve catches a shadow pass him in the corner of his eye, and by the time he turns his head, he is already surrounded. A mini-cavalry it seems, of twenty or so soldiers on horseback—except the horses are ravaged and skeletal, as dark as the landscape around them, with fire at their hooves. Their masters, the demons, appear a fearsome race, with red skin and yellow eyes, like creatures of childhood nightmares.

The leader, clad in black and gilded armor, opens his mouth to reveal rows of tiny sharp teeth. "Midgardian."

He sounds skeptical, and Steve doesn't blame him either, supposes that even the usual gist of staring your identity and business would take some effort in this situation. The soldier tries his best to be clear while parsimonious with words.

"My name is Steve Rogers, and I'm here on behalf of Asgard, to retrieve Loki."

The demon's face contorts in anger. "You deem me a fool to believe that Odin All-Father would send a _human_ to capture a wanted criminal to all Nine Realms."

"_No_—But at least, you know what I'm talking about," Steve falters slightly, unsure of how to proceed. There are a lot of things he can say actually—like how he's not here to capture Loki, per say, and Odin wasn't the one who sent him on this mission—but he questions the relevancy of this information, given their situation.

The demon leader all but scoffs. "Loki Laufeyson has disgraced our realm, and stolen from the royal vault of our King. We are to execute him upon capture."

"Oh." Steve raises his eyebrows. But before he could work out a way to convince the locals of his legitimacy—let alone a reason for them to pardon Loki's crimes—Steve feels a light breeze on his skin, strangely cool against the scorching backdrop. The wind only seems pick up as cold air mixes with warm, until Steve and his confronters are both struggling to shield themselves from the harshness of the sudden storm.

Steve feels a hand clutching at the collar of his suit, and he forces his eyes open despite the spiraling dust and debris.

"What are you doing here," Loki hisses, merely inches away. His guarded expression opens briefly before it is replaced by a vehement frown. "Heimdall, he can see me."

"Yeah, a little bit." Steve manages before the god whisks them away.

* * *

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